A Given Sunday in Atlantis
by Alasse Faelivrin
Summary: Atlantis gathers for a sporting event


Superbowl fic – Atlantis

Title: A Given Sunday in Atlantis

Author: Bounty

Rating: PG  
Season: 2

Spoilers: only if you don't know, and care, who won the Superbowl  
Pairing: none

Summary: Atlantis gathers for a sporting event.  
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and its characters are © Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., the Sci Fi Channel, and Acme Shark. No infringement is intended. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).  
Author notes: Many thanks to Aniko and Emm who know nothing about football, and Yllek and Dee who do…

Colonel Steven Caldwell strode briskly through the doors of the conference room. He nodded to the others before sliding into his seat, a sheaf of assorted papers and folders in front of him.

"Welcome back, Colonel," Elizabeth Weir said with a smile

"Thank you, Doctor Weir," Caldwell pushed the top folder across the table at her. "Here's the information you requested from General Landry."

Weir picked up the folder and flipped through it idly as Caldwell distributed the rest of the items he'd brought back from Stargate Command.

"What, no personal note?" Dr Rodney McKay looked up from the disc he'd received from Colonel Carter. Beside him, Colonel John Sheppard rolled his eyes.

Ignoring him, Caldwell turned back to Weir. "The crew is unloading some supplies as well." He smiled. "We thought everyone here would like some earth food for the holidays."

"The holidays?" McKay stared at Caldwell. "What, Chinese New Year? It's almost March."

"It was just after Christmas when we left Atlantis," Caldwell defended himself. "And after the two weeks of refresher training my people had to go through on Earth, they needed something to look forward to."

"Thank you Colonel," Weir said, rising. "That was very considerate of you and we'll be sure to plan something special." She glared at McKay before he could open his mouth again and he shrugged and went back to his discs.

"Oh I almost forgot!" Caldwell reached into the inside pocket of his fatigue jacket and drew out a videotape which he slid across the table to Sheppard. "Special delivery from General O'Neill."

Sheppard picked up the tape and read O'Neill's scrawl across the label. "Superbowl XL. Yes!" He jumped up from his chair, waving the tape in his hands. "Elizabeth you don't need me anymore today, right?"

"Oh no you don't," Caldwell said. "I carried that thing all these billions of miles..."

"Two point five million light years," interjected McKay. "Give or take a light year."

"Whatever. Carried for eighteen days without watching it and I deserve to watch it with you."

"You don't even have a vcr on the Daedalus," Sheppard pointed out. "And why didn't you watch it while you were there, anyway?"

"Because we were packing up to come back here." Caldwell had crossed the room and was reaching for the tape that Sheppard was still waving in the air.

"Gentlemen." Weir stepped neatly between them and plucked the tape from Sheppard's hands. "We will all watch it. Together."

McKay groaned. "Do we have to?"

Dr Radek Zelenka hurried through the halls of Atlantis toward the auditorium where the party and the viewing of the football match were to take place. He was rather excited, having been undergoing football withdrawal for quite some time. Only last week Dr Weir had granted his request for leave in June during the World Cup tournament, but June was a long way away.

He adjusted the red white and blue Czech Republic flag he had draped over the shoulders of his red and white football jersey and hoped that Colonel Caldwell had also managed to bring back some quality beer.

Near the door to the auditorium he almost collided with Rodney McKay, who as usual was walking with his eyes glued to the computer tablet in his hands.

"Whoa." McKay looked up, and then did a double take. "Where are you going in that getup?"

"The Match," Zelenka answered proudly, adjusting his flag again. "Are you not coming?"

"Yes yes," McKay tapped at his tablet with his forefinger and frowned. He looked up again to see Zelenka patiently watching him.

"It's this way," Zelenka gestured to the door that McKay had just passed.

"Oh, right." Tapping his tablet again, McKay wheeled around toward the door. "Walked right past it didn't I."

"Come my friend," Zelenka slapped McKay on his back. "I shall buy you a drink."

"How lovely."

Ignoring the sarcasm in his fellow scientist's voice, Zelenka walked through the door and stopped.

At the front of the auditorium, Sheppard had just thrown a large oval shaped brown ball through the air toward Ronon. As the husky Satedan reached for the ball, Teyla jumped in front of him, grabbed it and landed gracefully as always. Ronon scowled.

"Way to go Teyla!" Sheppard raised his hand in the air to be slapped. When Teyla raised her eyebrows, he settled for clapping it on her shoulder.

"What was that called again?" she asked.

"Interception," Sheppard answered proudly.

"Let's try that again," Ronon glared menacingly at Teyla, who laughed.

"Conan and Xena do the Superbowl Shuffle," McKay muttered, starting toward them. He stopped and turned around, giving Zelenka a quizzical look. "You coming, Radek?"

Zelenka's shoulders sagged. He slowly pulled off his flag and folded it up into a tiny square. "This is American football," he said sadly.

McKay raised his eyebrows. "What did you think it was? Hockey?"

"Hey guys," Sheppard waved to them. "Come on down, we're just going over some of the basics."

"Oh I've already got an excellent grasp of the basics," McKay told him, walking down the aisle and tossing his tablet onto a chair in the front row. "Run, run, run, fall down, take a ten minute commercial break." He looked around, frowning. "No food? I thought there was going to be food?"

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "The food's coming, Rodney, relax. Okay, Ronon, Teyla, go long!"

They stared at him. "Go where?" Teyla asked

"Long. Away. Over there," Sheppard gestured to the other side of the auditorium.

Teyla and Ronon looked at each other, shrugged, and went where Sheppard pointed.

Zelenka settled into the seat next to Rodney and watched as Sheppard hurled the football through the air, narrowly missing Weir and Dr Beckett who were coming down the aisle carrying large platters of food. Following them were Major Lorne and Colonel Caldwell, carrying a large keg between them.

"More compliments of General O'Neill," Caldwell grunted, lowering his end of the keg. Lorne just grinned.

Zelenka straightened up in his chair, the smile returning to his face. General O'Neill was Irish, and Irishmen tended to have good taste in beer. Perhaps American football wouldn't be so bad.

Sheppard resumed his lessons as the newcomers set up the tables of food and drink.

"Hey, watch where you're throwing the wee haggis!" Beckett exclaimed as Ronon's toss grazed his ear and landed on the floor, rolling under the table.

"Sorry," Ronon apologized, retrieving the ball. "This thing is harder to aim than a knife."

Sheppard grabbed the ball from him and tossed it onto the nearest seat. "Okay that's enough practice for now." He turned his attention to the food, only to be practically elbowed out of the way by McKay.

Plate piled high, McKay accepted a cup of beer from Lorne, who murmured, "We've got a pool going. Let me know if you want in."

"Are you kidding?" McKay stared at him incredulously. "Why would I risk my money? Sports are entirely unpredictable."

"Put me in for two hundred on Seattle by five," Sheppard murmured behind him. Lorne nodded.

McKay turned around to face Sheppard. "Two hundred? Are you crazy?"

"Shut up Rodney," Sheppard said between his teeth, with a glare and a toss of his head in the direction of Weir.

"What? Oh, right. No gambling allowed is there? Ouch!"

Sheppard's elbow had connected sharply with McKay's ribs, causing him to spill some of his beer.

"Shutting up," McKay muttered, slinking back toward his seat.

Once everyone had their food and drink and were reasonably settled, Weir handed the tape to Sergeant Muggs, who'd been put in charge of the audio-visual equipment. "Fast forward through the pre-game show," she advised him.

"Yes ma'am."

"What?" Sheppard protested from the front row.

"What is the 'pre-game show'?" Teyla asked.

"Hype and speculation," McKay answered her. Teyla frowned, looking more confused.

"All right, all right," Sheppard said. "We go straight to the kickoff, but we are watching the halftime show."

McKay groaned. Sheppard glared at him. "Come on, Rodney, it's the Stones!"

"Yeah," McKay muttered, "and if Mick Jagger has a 'wardrobe malfunction', my pigs in blankets are coming up all over the back of your seat."

Amid much pomp and circumstance, the teams took the field. Zelenka settled in with his beer to watch the game. McKay munched loudly and tapped away at his computer tablet.

Sheppard attempted to explain the coin toss to Ronon, as Cadman attempted to explain the appeal of spandex uniform pants to Teyla.

Lorne quietly continued distributing food and taking clandestine wagers.

"Wait a minute," Ronon interrupted Sheppard with a disgruntled scowl on his face. "The purpose of this game is to get that ball into that zone, right?"

"End zone, yes," Sheppard nodded.

"And they use no weapons?"

"None but their bodies," Sheppard agreed.

"Some of those bodies make you and the space marines look tiny," McKay noted. Sheppard ignored him.

"But if they use no weapons," Ronon was becoming increasingly agitated, "why do they need to wear so much armor?"

"Well," Sheppard looked around at his fellow earthlings for help. None was forthcoming. "They could get hurt," he said wincing at how lame that must sound to a man who had fought the wraith with his only armor being the thickness of his hair.

Ronon's scowl deepened. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded.

"Cheer up laddie," Beckett leaned forward and tapped him on the shoulder. "Someday I'll show ye a rugby match. Now **that's** a man's game."

"Oh please," McKay muttered under his breath, tapping more furiously at his computer.

The game commenced. Sheppard and Lorne paid rapt attention, analyzing every play. Ronon soon gave up trying to follow and dropped back with Beckett to listen in on Cadman and Teyla's conversation. McKay looked up occasionally to laugh at a commercial, and Weir and Caldwell sat quietly observing the others.

The halftime show was played, much to McKay's disgust. They were even treating to an echoing chorus of "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" in Czech by Zelenka, who by this time had consumed both his and McKay's share of the beer.

When the Steelers intercepted and scored a touchdown in the Seahawks end zone, Weir, quiet to this point, jumped to her feet shouting "Yes!" As every eye turned to her she sank back in her seat, face as red as her shirt.

"Lemme guess," Sheppard drawled. "You were one of those with the Steelers footie pajamas in the 70's."

"That was my brother," she shot back. "But I did have a poster of Lynn Swann on my wall," she added softly to Cadman and Teyla. Cadman laughed and Teyla smiled politely.

"Hey wait a minute," McKay called everyone's attention back to the screen. "Isn't that General O'Neill?"

"Sure looks like him," Sheppard squinted at the man in the commercial. "But what happened to his hair?"

The game ended to cheering by Weir once again.

Lorne positioned himself again by the table collecting his bets. Sheppard paid out his two hundred, muttering under his breath about bad calls and Seattle not getting a break.

"So out of curiosity, who won the pool?" McKay asked, sidling up to leer at Sheppard.

Lorne sighed, and handed over a huge envelope to the commander of the Daedalus, who took it with a smirk.

"What?" Sheppard demanded.

"He had Steelers by ten," Lorne said, "Closest wins."

"He cheated!" Sheppard glared at Caldwell.

"I told you," Caldwell said mildly, "we were in a briefing all night."

"Right," Sheppard rolled his eyes. "You saw the news, the paper. Something!"

"Gentlemen," came Weir's smooth voice behind them, as Caldwell was warming up to argue back. "I thought we had agreed there would be no gambling."

"Erm…" all three men tried to come up with an excuse as McKay watched grinning.

Weir reached out and plucked the envelope out of Caldwell's hands. She flipped through it, counting quickly, and smiled in satisfaction. "Thank you for your contribution," she said. "This will be just enough to fund our next party."

"Our next party?" Sheppard echoed.

Weir nodded. "Dr Jackson promised to record the winter Olympic ice skating. The tapes should be ready by the Daedalus' next trip. I'll make a list of what to buy."

"Ice skating?" McKay asked, with an interested smile. "You think he'd add curling to that?"

Weir nodded. "I'll ask."

All three Air Force officers groaned in unison.

Sheppard turned to Lorne. "Just shoot me now."

The end


End file.
